circumstance. The civil war having again broken out in France, Philip,
according to the promise made by him to Catharine de Medici, when he took
her daughter in marriage, was called upon to assist the Catholic party
with auxiliaries. He sent three thousand infantry, accordingly, which he
had levied in Italy, as many more collected in Spain, and gave immediate
orders that the Duchess of Parma should despatch at least two thousand
cavalry, from the Netherlands. Great was the indignation in the council
when the commands were produced. Sore was the dismay of Margaret. It
was impossible to obey the King. The idea of sending the famous mounted
gendarmerie of the provinces to fight against the French Huguenots could
not be tolerated for an instant. The "bands of ordonnance" were very few
in number, and were to guard the frontier. They were purely for domestic
purposes. It formed no part of their duty to go upon crusades in foreign
lands; still less to take a share in a religious quarrel, and least of
all to assist a monarch against a nation. These views were so cogently
presented to the Duchess in council, that she saw the impossibility of
complying with her brother's commands. She wrote to Philip to that
effect. Meantime, another letter arrived out of Spain, chiding her
delay, and impatiently calling upon her to furnish the required cavalry
at once. The Duchess was in a dilemma. She feared to provoke another
storm in the council, for there was already sufficient wrangling there
upon domestic subjects. She knew it was impossible to obtain the
consent, even of Berlaymont and Viglius, to such an odious measure as the
one proposed. She was, however, in great trepidation at the peremptory
tone of the King's despatch. Under the advice of Granvelle, she had
recourse to a trick. A private and confidential letter of Philip was
read to the council, but with alterations suggested and interpolated by
the Cardinal. The King was represented as being furious at the delay,
but as willing that a sum of money should be furnished instead of the
cavalry, as originally required. This compromise, after considerable
opposition, was accepted. The Duchess wrote to Philip, explaining and
apologizing for the transaction. The King received the substitution with
as good a grace as could have been expected, and sent fifteen hundred
troopers from Spain to his Medicean mother-in-law, drawing upon the
Duchess of Parma for the money to pay their expenses. Thus was the
industry of the Netherlands taxed that the French might be persecuted
by their own monarch.
The Regent had been forbidden, by her brother, to convoke the states-
general; a body which the Prince of Orange, sustained by Berghen,
Montigny, and other nobles, was desirous of having assembled. It may be
easily understood that Granvelle would take the best care that the royal
prohibition should be enforced. The Duchess, however, who, as already
hinted, was beginning to feel somewhat uncomfortable under the Cardinal's
dominion, was desirous of consulting some larger council than that with
which she held her daily deliberations. A meeting of the Knights of the
Fleece was accordingly summoned. They assembled in Brussels, in the
month of May, 1562. The learned Viglius addressed them in a long and
eloquent speech, in which he discussed the troubled and dangerous
condition of the provinces, alluded to some of its causes, and suggested
various remedies. It may be easily conceived, however, that the
inquisition was not stated among the causes, nor its suppression included
among the remedies. A discourse, in which the fundamental topic was thus
conscientiously omitted, was not likely, with all its concinnities, to
make much impression upon the disaffected knights, or to exert a soothing
influence upon the people. The orator was, however, delighted with his
own performance. He informs us, moreover, that the Duchess was equally
charmed, and that she protested she had never in her whole life heard any
thing more "delicate, more suitable, or more eloquent." The Prince of
Orange, however, did not sympathize with her admiration. The President's
elegant periods produced but little effect upon his mind. The meeting
adjourned, after a few additional words from the Duchess, in which she
begged the knights to ponder well the causes of the increasing
discontent, and to meet her again, prepared to announce what, in their
opinion, would be the course best adapted to maintain the honor of the
King, the safety of the provinces, and the glory of God.
Soon after the separation of the assembly, the Prince of Orange issued
invitations to most of the knights, to meet at his house for the purpose
of private deliberation. The President and Cardinal were not included in
these invitations. The meeting was, in fact, what we should call a
caucus, rather than a general gathering. Nevertheless, there were many
of the government party present--men who differed from the Prince, and
were inclined to support Granvelle. The meeting was a stormy one. Two
subjects were discussed. The first was the proposition of the Duchess,
to investigate the general causes of the popular dissatisfaction; the
second was an inquiry how it could be rendered practicable to discuss
political matters in future--a proceeding now impossible, in consequence
of the perverseness and arrogance of certain functionaries, and one
which, whenever attempted, always led to the same inevitable result.
This direct assault upon the Cardinal produced a furious debate. His
enemies were delighted with the opportunity of venting their long-
suppressed spleen. They indulged in savage invectives against the man
whom they so sincerely hated. His adherents, on the other hand--Bossu,
Berlaymont, Courieres--were as warm in his defence. They replied by
indignant denials of the charge against him, and by bitter insinuations
against the Prince of Orange. They charged him with nourishing the
desire of being appointed governor of Brabant, an office considered
inseparable from the general stadholderate of all the provinces. They
protested for themselves that they were actuated by no ambitious designs
--that they were satisfied with their own position, and not inspired by
jealousy of personages more powerful than themselves. It is obvious that
such charges and recriminations could excite no healing result, and that
the lines between Cardinalists and their opponents would be defined in
consequence more sharply than ever. The adjourned meeting of the
Chevaliers of the Fleece took place a few days afterwards. The Duchess
exerted herself as much as possible to reconcile the contending factions,
without being able, however, to apply the only remedy which could be
effective. The man who was already fast becoming the great statesman of
the country knew that the evil was beyond healing, unless by a change of
purpose on the part of the government. The Regent, on the other hand,
who it must be confessed never exhibited any remarkable proof of
intellectual ability during the period of her residence in the
Netherlands, was often inspired by a feeble and indefinite hope that the
matter might be arranged by a compromise between the views of conflicting
parties. Unfortunately the inquisition was not a fit subject for a
compromise.
Nothing of radical importance was accomplished by the Assembly of the
Fleece. It was decided that an application should be made to the
different states for a giant of money, and that, furthermore, a special
envoy should be despatched to Spain. It was supposed by the Duchess and
her advisers that more satisfactory information concerning the provinces
could be conveyed to Philip by word of mouth than by the most elaborate
epistles. The meeting was dissolved after these two measures had been
agreed upon. Doctor Viglius, upon whom devolved the duty of making the
report and petition to the states, proceeded to draw up the necessary
application. This he did with his customary elegance, and, as usual,
very much to his own satisfaction. On returning to his house, however,
after having discharged this duty, he was very much troubled at finding
that a large mulberry-tree; which stood in his garden, had been torn up
by the roots in a violent hurricane. The disaster was considered ominous
by the President, and he was accordingly less surprised than mortified
when he found, subsequently, that his demand upon the orders had remained
as fruitless as his ruined tree. The tempest which had swept his garden
he considered typical of the storm which was soon to rage through the
land, and he felt increased anxiety to reach a haven while it was yet
comparatively calm.
The estates rejected the request for supplies, on various grounds; among
others, that the civil war was drawing to a conclusion in France, and
that less danger was to be apprehended from that source than had lately
been the case. Thus, the "cup of bitterness," of which Granvelle had
already complained; was again commended to his lips, and there was more
reason than ever for the government to regret that the national
representatives had contracted the habit of meddling with financial
matters.
Florence de Montmorency, Seigneur de Montigny, was selected by the Regent
for the mission which had been decided upon for Spain. This gentleman
was brother to Count Horn, but possessed of higher talents and a more
amiable character than those of the Admiral. He was a warm friend of
Orange, and a bitter enemy to Granvelle. He was a sincere Catholic, but
a determined foe to the inquisition. His brother had declined to act as
envoy. This refusal can excite but little surprise, when Philip's wrath
at their parting interview is recalled, and when it is also remembered
that the new mission would necessarily lay bare fresh complaints against
the Cardinal, still more extensive than those which had produced the
former explosion of royal indignation. Montigny, likewise, would have
preferred to remain at home, but he was overruled. It had been written
in his destiny that he should go twice into the angry lion's den, and
that he should come forth once, alive.
Thus it has been shown that there was an open, avowed hostility on the
part of the grand seignors and most of the lesser nobility to the
Cardinal and his measures. The people fully and enthusiastically
sustained the Prince of Orange in his course. There was nothing
underhand in the opposition made to the government. The Netherlands did
not constitute an absolute monarchy. They did not even constitute a
monarchy. There was no king in the provinces. Philip was King of Spain,
Naples, Jerusalem, but he was only Duke of Brabant, Count of Flanders,
Lord of Friesland, hereditary chief, in short, under various titles, of
seventeen states, each one of which, although not republican, possessed
constitutions as sacred as, and much more ancient than, the Crown. The
resistance to the absolutism of Granvelle and Philip was, therefore,
logical, legal, constitutional. It was no cabal, no secret league,
as the Cardinal had the effrontery to term it, but a legitimate exercise
of powers which belonged of old to those who wielded them, and which only
an unrighteous innovation could destroy.
Granvelle's course was secret and subtle. During the whole course of the
proceedings which have just been described, he was; in daily confidential
correspondence with the King, besides being the actual author of the
multitudinous despatches which were sent with the signature of the
Duchess. He openly asserted his right to monopolize all the powers of
the Government; he did his utmost to force upon the reluctant and almost
rebellious people the odious measures which the King had resolved upon,
while in his secret letters he uniformly represented the nobles who
opposed him, as being influenced, not by an honest hatred of oppression
and attachment to ancient rights, but by resentment, and jealousy of
their own importance. He assumed, in his letters to his master, that
the absolutism already existed of right and in fact, which it was the
intention of Philip to establish. While he was depriving the nobles,
the states and the nation of their privileges, and even of their natural
rights (a slender heritage in those days), he assured the King that there
was an evident determination to reduce his authority to a cipher.
The estates, he wrote, had usurped the whole administration of the
finances, and had farmed it out to Antony Van Stralen and others, who
were making enormous profits in the business. "The seignors," he said,
"declare at their dinner parties that I wish to make them subject to the
absolute despotism of your Majesty. In point of fact, however, they
really exercise a great deal more power than the governors of particular
provinces ever did before; and it lacks but little that Madame and your
Majesty should become mere ciphers, while the grandees monopolize the
whole power. This," he continued, "is the principal motive of their
opposition to the new bishoprics. They were angry that your Majesty
should have dared to solicit such an arrangement at Rome, without,
first obtaining their consent. They wish to reduce your Majesty's
authority to so low a point that you can do nothing unless they desire
it. Their object is the destruction of the royal authority and of the
administration of justice, in order to avoid the payment of their debts;
telling their creditors constantly that they, have spent their all in
your Majesty's service, and that they have never received recompence or
salary. This they do to make your Majesty odious."
As a matter of course, he attributed the resistance on the part of the
great nobles, every man of whom was Catholic, to base motives. They were
mere demagogues, who refused to burn their fellow-creatures, not from any
natural repugnance to the task, but in order to gain favor with the
populace. "This talk about the inquisition," said he, "is all a
pretext. 'Tis only to throw dust in the eyes of the vulgar, and to
persuade them into tumultuous demonstrations, while the real reason is,
that they choose that your Majesty should do nothing without their
permission, and through their hands."
He assumed sometimes, however, a tone of indulgence toward the seignors
--who formed the main topics of his letters--an affectation which might,
perhaps, have offended them almost as much as more open and sincere
denunciation. He could forgive offences against himself. It was for
Philip to decide as to their merits or crimes so far as the Crown was
concerned. His language often was befitting a wise man who was speaking
of very little children. "Assonleville has told me, as coming from
Egmont," he wrote, "that many of the nobles are dissatisfied with me;
hearing from Spain that I am endeavoring to prejudice your Majesty
against them." Certainly the tone of the Cardinal's daily letters would
have justified such suspicion, could the nobles have seen them.
Granvelle begged the King, however, to disabuse them upon this point.
"Would to God," said he, piously, "that they all would decide to sustain
the authority of your Majesty, and to procure such measures as tend to
the service of God and the security of the states. May I cease to exist
if I do not desire to render good service to the very least of these
gentlemen. Your Majesty knows that, when they do any thing for the
benefit of your service, I am never silent. Nevertheless, thus they are
constituted. I hope, however, that this flurry will blow over, and that
when your Majesty comes they will all be found to deserve rewards of
merit."
Of Egmont, especially, he often spoke in terms of vague, but somewhat
condescending commendation. He never manifested resentment in his
letters, although, as already stated, the Count had occasionally
indulged, not only in words, but in deeds of extreme violence against
him. But the Cardinal was too forgiving a Christian, or too keen a
politician not to pass by such offences, so long as there was a chance of
so great a noble's remaining or becoming his friend. He, accordingly,
described him, in general, as a man whose principles, in the main, were
good, but who was easily led by his own vanity and the perverse counsels
of others. He represented him as having been originally a warm supporter
of the new bishoprics, and as having expressed satisfaction that two of
them, those of Bruges and Ypres, should have been within his own
stadholderate. He regretted, however; to inform the King that the Count
was latterly growing lukewarm, perhaps from fear of finding himself
separated from the other nobles. On the whole, he was tractable enough,
said the Cardinal, if he were not easily persuaded by the vile; but one
day, perhaps, he might open his eyes again. Notwithstanding these vague
expressions of approbation, which Granvelle permitted himself in his
letters to Philip, he never failed to transmit to the monarch every fact,
every rumor, every inuendo which might prejudice the royal mind against
that nobleman or against any of the noblemen, whose characters he at the
same time protested he was most unwilling to injure.
It is true that he dealt mainly by insinuation, while he was apt to
conclude his statements with disclaimers upon his own part, and with
hopes of improvement in the conduct of the seignors. At this particular
point of time he furnished Philip with a long and most circumstantial
account of a treasonable correspondence which was thought to be going on
between the leading nobles and the future emperor, Maximilian. The
narrative was a good specimen of the masterly style of inuendo in which
the Cardinal excelled, and by which he was often enabled to convince his
master of the truth of certain statements while affecting to discredit
them. He had heard a story, he said, which he felt bound to communicate
to his Majesty, although he did not himself implicitly believe it. He
felt himself the more bound to speak upon the subject because it tallied
exactly with intelligence which he had received from another source. The
story was that one of these seigniors (the Cardinal did not know which,
for he had not yet thought proper to investigate the matter) had said
that rather than consent that the King should act in this matter of the
bishoprics against the privileges of Brabant, the nobles would elect for
their sovereign some other prince of the blood. This, said the Cardinal,
was perhaps a fantasy rather than an actual determination. Count Egmont,
to be sure, he said, was constantly exchanging letters with the King of
Bohemia (Maximilian), and it was supposed, therefore, that he was the
prince of the blood who was to be elected to govern the provinces. It
was determined that he should be chosen King of the Romans, by fair means
or by force, that he should assemble an army to attack the Netherlands,
that a corresponding movement should be made within the states, and that
the people should be made to rise, by giving them the reins in the matter
of religion. The Cardinal, after recounting all the particulars of this
fiction with great minuteness, added, with apparent frankness, that
the correspondence between Egmont and Maximilian did not astonish him,
because there had been much intimacy between them in the time of the late
Emperor. He did not feel convinced, therefore, from the frequency of the
letters exchanged, that there was a scheme to raise an army to attack the
provinces and to have him elected by force. On the contrary, Maximilian
could never accomplish such a scheme without the assistance of his
imperial father the Emperor, whom Granvelle was convinced would rather
die than be mixed up with such villany against Philip. Moreover, unless
the people should become still more corrupted by the bad counsels
constantly given them, the Cardinal did not believe that any of the great
nobles had the power to dispose in this way of the provinces at their
pleasure. Therefore, he concluded that the story was to be rejected as
improbable, although it had come to him directly from the house of the
said Count Egmont. It is remarkable that, at the commencement of his
narrative, the Cardinal had expressed his ignorance of the name of the
seignior who was hatching all this treason, while at the end of it he
gave a local habitation to the plot in the palace of Egmont. It is also
quite characteristic that he should add that, after all, he considered
that nobleman one of the most honest of all, if appearances did not
deceive.
It may be supposed, however, that all these details of a plot which was
quite imaginary, were likely to produce more effect upon a mind so narrow
and so suspicious as that of Philip, than could the vague assertions of
the Cardinal, that in spite of all, he would dare be sworn that he
thought the Count honest, and that men should be what they seemed.
Notwithstanding the conspiracy, which, according to Granvelle's letters,
had been formed against him, notwithstanding that his life was daily
threatened, he did not advise the King at this period to avenge him by
any public explosion of wrath. He remembered, he piously observed, that
vengeance belonged to God, and that He would repay. Therefore he passed
over insults meekly, because that comported best with his Majesty's
service. Therefore, too, he instructed Philip to make no demonstration
at that time, in order not to damage his own affairs. He advised him to
dissemble, and to pretend not to know what was going on in the provinces.
Knowing that his master looked to him daily for instructions, always
obeyed them with entire docility, and, in fact, could not move a step in
Netherland matters without them, he proceeded to dictate to him the terms
in which he was to write to the nobles, and especially laid down rules
for his guidance in his coming interviews with the Seigneur de Montigny.
Philip, whose only talent consisted in the capacity to learn such lessons
with laborious effort, was at this juncture particularly in need of
tuition. The Cardinal instructed him, accordingly, that he was to
disabuse all men of the impression that the Spanish inquisition was
to be introduced into the provinces. He was to write to the seigniors,
promising to pay them their arrears of salary; he was to exhort them to
do all in their power for the advancement of religion and maintenance of
the royal authority; and he was to suggest to them that, by his answer to
the Antwerp deputation, it was proved that there was no intention of
establishing the inquisition of Spain, under pretext of the new
bishoprics.
The King was, furthermore, to signify his desire that all the nobles
should exert themselves to efface this false impression from the popular
mind. He was also to express himself to the same effect concerning the
Spanish inquisition, the bishoprics, and the religious question, in the
public letters to Madame de Parma, which were to be read in full council.
The Cardinal also renewed his instructions to the King as to the manner
in which the Antwerp deputies were to be answered, by giving them,
namely, assurances that to transplant the Spanish inquisition into the
provinces would be as hopeless as to attempt its establishment in Naples.
He renewed his desire that Philip should contradict the story about the
half dozen heads, and he especially directed him to inform Montigny that
Berghen had known of the new bishoprics before the Cardinal. This, urged
Granvelle, was particularly necessary, because the seigniors were
irritated that so important a matter should have been decided upon
without their advice, and because the Marquis Berghen was now the
"cock of the opposition."
At about the same time, it was decided by Granvelle and the Regent, in
conjunction with the King, to sow distrust and jealousy among the nobles,
by giving greater "mercedes" to some than to others, although large sums
were really due to all. In particular, the attempt was made in this
paltry manner, to humiliate William of Orange. A considerable sum was
paid to Egmont, and a trifling one to the Prince, in consideration of
their large claims upon the treasury. Moreover the Duke of Aerschot was
selected as envoy to the Frankfort Diet, where the King of the Romans was
to be elected, with the express intention, as Margaret wrote to Philip,
of creating divisions among the nobles, as he had suggested. The Duchess
at the same time informed her brother that, according to, Berlaymont, the
Prince of Orange was revolving some great design, prejudicial to his
Majesty's service.
Philip, who already began to suspect that a man who thought so much must
be dangerous, was eager to find out the scheme over which William the
Silent was supposed to be brooding, and wrote for fresh intelligence to
the Duchess.
Neither Margaret nor the Cardinal, however, could discover any thing
against the Prince--who, meantime, although disappointed of the mission
to Frankfort, had gone to that city in his private capacity--saving that
he had been heard to say, "one day we shall be the stronger." Granvelle
and Madame de Parma both communicated this report upon the same day, but
this was all that they were able to discover of the latent plot.